White Collar: Work of Art
by Ruahnna
Summary: Title: Work of Art Rating: G Genre/Relationship: Schmoop, Neal, Peter, Elizabeth, Sara, Mozzie Spoilers: None Word Count: 1017 Summary: There are some things you just can't really prepare for, but family will get you through.


**Title:** Work of Art

**Rating: **G

**Genre/Relationship: **Schmoop, Neal, Peter, Elizabeth, Sara, Mozzie

**Spoilers:** None

**Word Count:** 1017

**Summary:** There are some things you just can't really prepare for, but family will get you through.

You never get ready for the phone call. No matter how prepared you thought you were, no matter how inevitable, how expected, when the phone rang, time stopped, telescoped and you were reduced to reenacting the Keystone Cops. Peter bellowed and—thank God—El came running. He supposed she had more practice at this, more practice at getting phone calls that made your heart race and the air seem thin. She grabbed her purse, his wallet and keys and manhandled him out the door. Peter reached for the keys but Elizabeth just _looked_ at him.

"No," she said, and pointed. He hesitated, wanting to argue. "_Tick tock_," said Elizabeth, and he sprinted for the passenger side.

Traffic was a nightmare, a seemingly unending snarl of stops and starts and delays. El drove like a stock car driver, pushing into impossible spaces, making openings where there weren't any.

"He should have gone home early today," Peter moaned. "I told him to take off, but _no_, _suddenly_ he's developed a work ethic."

Her hand patted his knee. "Not suddenly," she said gently. "He's been coming along."

"Yeah," Peter said, and gripped her hand convulsively before she took it back to lay on the horn.

She lurched to the emergency room door and Peter practically fell out of the car before she'd completely stopped. He stumbled in, flashing his badge out of habit.

"Caffrey," he said, trying to catch his breath. "I'm here for Caffrey."

They were experts at dealing with frazzled people, skilled at exuding calm. The woman looked up the name in the system and the man took his elbow, leading him through the double doors.

"Family?" he asked.

"Yes." What other answer was possible?

The man nodded, walking fast because he could feel Peter's urgency, feel the tension rolling off him like a tidal wave. They stopped at the elevator, punching a button. Peter knew there were stairs and he was looking for them, contemplating a run for it when the elevator dinged. To his great relief, the man stepped in with him, a gentle hand on his arm as they cleared the door.

"Have you been to this part of the hospital before?" the man asked as the lift began to move. Peter shook his head, then stopped and nodded.

"Once," he said. "Just the once."

The doors opened and they stepped around to a busy nurses' station.

"They'll take you from here," the man said, and smiled.

The nurses were all smiling—was that a requirement? Peter must have looked desperate or lost or _something_, for a short, efficient-looking nurse stood up and came to him. He'd managed to put his badge away—he didn't need it here—but he said, "Caffrey? I got a call…."

"Right this way," she said, and he followed her numbly, like a man in a dream. Later, he couldn't tell you what the room number was, or even recognize how many turns there were. El had to depend on the nurses to find them when she'd parked and followed him up. He couldn't remember much of anything except opening that hospital room and seeing Neal's face.

Tears pricked his eyes—Big Bad Peter Burke was darn-near crying!—but they were matched by the tears in Neal's.

"Hey," said Peter. "I—we came as soon as we could."

"Glad you're here, buddy," he said. He didn't reach for Peter—his hands weren't free—but his smile said a lot. Peter looked over and saw Sara, pale but smiling, and he walked over to the bed and put his arm around her in a half-hug.

"Hey there, busy lady. How're you holding up?"

"You should ask _him_," Sara said, and Peter stepped over and awkwardly put an arm around Neal's shoulders.

"She's a trooper," said Neal, but he didn't look up. Peter's hand went to the back of Neal's neck, warm and strong and reassuring. He looked at Neal, asking permission, and Neal nodded. Peter's other hand rose to lift the edge of the blanket.

"Hey there, little guy," said Peter. "Welcome to the world." Peter gazed, mesmerized, at the tiny face, the perfect features. "You done good, kids," he said. "A real work of art."

El burst into the room, breathless but smiled when she saw them—Sara beaming from the bed, Neal with the baby in his arms, Peter with his hand in Neal's hair.

"Wow," said El. "That was really fast."

"It _was_," said Sara. "But then, I've always been good at deadlines."

"I would have called sooner," said Neal, "but she swore it was another false alarm."

"This is no false alarm," said Peter, putting his finger near the baby's tiny hand. "This is the real deal." Reflexively, the miniature fist curled around his finger, holding tight. "Quite a grip there," he said, grinning. He looked over at El, his eyes alive with delight. "El—come look, come here."

She joined him, stretching to peck Neal on the cheek before linking her arm through Peter's and gazing down at Neal and Sara's perfect, beautiful boy.

"Best work you've ever done," said Peter.

"Yeah," he said. His voice was dreamy. "But Sara gets most of the credit," Neal insisted.

"How about 'Sara gets the baby'?" Sara said. "You've had him for a long time."

"Hey, you got to carry him for almost nine months," pouted Neal. "It's my turn for a little!" Grinning he walked over and handed his son to his wife, then edged one hip on the bed and put his arm around her so that he was holding them both. He leaned and kissed her on the top of the head, then bent and pressed a kiss onto the crown of fuzzy dark hair.

Watching them, Peter thought about how things sometimes take a funny turn, zig when they should have zagged, swerved when they should have ducked. But sometimes, those funny turns took you full circle, back to where you were supposed to be.

Without warning, Mozzie burst into the room.

"I'm here," he said. "I'm here."

"Good," said Neal. "Now the whole family's here."


End file.
